My Brother

Last week during all the hustle and bustle of my daily activities, I got word that one of my good close friends had suffered a minor stoke and that as a result of the stroke, an embolism formed. He was going to have minor surgery to fix the embolism. I was shocked and disturbed by the news, but because the prognosis was good, I was relieved. I figured just as soon an my man recovers I would hit him up. I said a prayer for him, and jumped back into my bubble.

I won't be able to make that call.

My Brother Rasul Madyun did not recover. On yesterday, he passed, he had no brain activity and was not breathing on his own. His parents decided to turn the machine off. This after two surgeries could not correct the embolism. My brother Rasul was just 30 years old.

I met Rasul an East High graduate, when he was a junior at LeMoyne, he wanted to pledge my frat. I wanted to make his life miserable. He was going to be an "Uno" so I had to have him right. We called him Zulu. Matter of fact, one night we had a pledge session at my granny's house. The noise of swinging wood, brought her to the front of the house to see what was going on. Everybody in the house scattered. We still joke about that to this day. But Rasul had one of those personalities that kind of made it hard to pledge the guy. I would rather debate the issues with him, and that's what we often did. Discussed everything from politics to religion. Yo, he would talk me out of my position sometimes, or to the point that I no longer wanted to debate, ending the conversation with a handshake and a sly grin. That was Rasul.

Our bond grew stonger, evolved beyond that of frat brother. We had a religious bond as well. We did not know that some 30 years ago, his parents and my mom became friends and attended the same Mosque. It was only later that we learned of this connection.

Zulu and I kicked hard it, partied hard, debated hard, but we also kept each other level, never allowing each other to cross the line. I appreciated him yanking my collar when I pushed things to the limit. That's what brothers are for.

Three years ago, I decided to go to law school and he decided to marry and relocate. He ended up in D.C. He became a religious leader as a local mosque there. School and the distance kept us from chatting as often as we did before. But when we did I felt his energy, he was excited about the direction he was headed. I last saw him in October, I was running to class, jumped out the car, shook his hand, briefly chatted about things, asked him when was he and the wife gonna have some babies. We laughed it up and told each other we would catch up soon. My last communication to him was a text message I sent. I should have called.

Zulu always had a smile on his face and words of wisdom to speak. He was a very skilled artist. He was one of the best steppers in Beta XI, for that matter in the City, he would break out stepping in a heart beat and there was no one who was gonna challenge him. College days swiftly pass, imbued with memories fond......

You know, the distance and school was probably the only reason he and I did not chat that often. His untimely death hurts a lot. Talk about catching a brotha off guard. We plan and then the Lord plans, but............ He had a lot left to do in this world. He inspired a lot of youth here in Memphis, and had began planting seeds with many in D.C. Rasul had big plans, who is gonna finish the job he started of enlightening the youth and making a difference in peoples lives. In his thirty years he made a difference to many, I can only imagine how many more he would have reached if he had another thirty more. May God bless him soul, and grant him paradise.

Miss you already man.

His MySpace page, http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=79473340